The Perfect Pitch
by alertthecorgis
Summary: Paul Anka's POV on future events.
1. Voices

Chapter 1: Voices

In the spring, he began to lie by the front door when she came home, listening to them talking on the front porch. As a creature of habit, this nightly ritual was comforting to him.

As spring turned to summer, it had become increasingly more difficult to eavesdrop on Mom and Dad because their conversations were punctuated by long pauses. When it first started happening, Paul Anka thought Dad had left, but he could still hear them breathing. In fact, their breathing got very loud when they stopped talking. _Strange_, he thought.

He also thought it was strange that Dad had not come into the house. He heard Mom try to convince Dad that he should (or was it could? Paul Anka wasn't sure).

Dad kept saying that it was either too soon or it was too late which was very confusing.

One thing Paul Anka was not confused about. He had missed Dad. Mom had, too.

Of course, Paul Anka knew that the main reason hemissed Dad was food related. Maybe, if Mom could get him to come in, hamburgers would follow. Okay, sometimes Dad cooked them a little too long, but, at this point, he'd eat one any way at all. Tartar, medium well, charred, he didn't care. And, if it were "too late" for hamburger, maybe in the morning he could get some scrambled eggs. As his stomach rumbled, he thought, _Oh boy, miss them! _

He'd had to settle for pizza crusts which were good enough though not great. Sometimes, Mom would give him some of that funny-tasting hamburger from the top of the pizza. This was especially good when a little cheese was stuck to it. _Snausage_, he thinks that's what she called it. Still, nothing tasted as good as hamburger.

Paul Anka realized he was drooling, so he decided to think about something else. He remembered the time Mom gave him something from that small, white box with the wire handles. She spent a lot of time cleaning up after that, almost as long as after the Pie Man gave him dessert. Never could get the Pie Man to understand that potpie(with the peas carefully removed, of course) was the only pie for dogs. _Yummy crust…wait_! Paul Anka recognized he was preoccupied with his favorite subject, food.

Fortunately, Mom and Dad started talking again. It occurred to Paul Anka that there were other things he missed about Dad, like the pitch of his voice. Pie Man had a higher voice. Not like the nice lady who fed him at times. Her voice had the frequency of one of those dog whistles, but Dad's…

Yes, Dad had the perfect pitch to his voice. Its frequency wasn't too high or too low. Paul Anka missed just hearing him. He also missed Dad's pet name for him. _What was it?_ He scratched his head with his hind paw and the name came to him…_Weirdo. Yeah, that was it_.

Suddenly, Paul Anka was aware they were still talking behind the front door, but he listened to Mom's voice this time. With Pie Man, even Mom's happy voice sounded shrill. His mind began to wander to even less pleasant areas…_don't get started with the voice of The White Tornado_, he thought. So, Paul Anka resumed concentrating on the sound of Mom and Dad's voices.

Mom had had a different pitch, the perfect pitch, in her voice when Dad was around. Then, her voice had sounded like a clear, ringing bell or maybe like one of those little songbirds. Paul Anka snorted. _Jeez,_ w_hat do you think you are, a poet?_ As he returned to listening, he believed Mom's voice was back in a good frequency range. Y_ep_, he said to himself, _she's sounding good…did she persuade him…is he coming in?_


	2. Sell It!

Chapter 2: Sell It!

Paul Anka heard the keys enter and turn in the lock. Then the door opened. Mom was gently, but insistently pulling Dad into the house. Now, Paul Anka was faced with a choice. As happy as he was, should he go crazy or play it cool? As Dad was not one for PDAs from PA, he opted for number two.

Dad hesitated in the foyer and Paul Anka wondered whether he had made the right choice. Paul Anka felt tension in Dad's demeanor. Mom had it covered though and kept petting Dad's hand and pulling him towards the couch. When they sat down, Mom put her arms around him and placed her head on his shoulder (Where had Paul Anka heard that before???).

_Good move, Mom. He can't get up. Wait, I can help. Let me put my head on his feet, just to be sure Dad can't move, can't leave us. _ Just as Paul Anka was certain Dad was trapped, the foot under his head shifted.

"I think I should go," Dad mumbled.

He was heading for the door. Paul Anka began to panic. _Think fast!_ _I have to keep him here._ _What should I do? _Mom was trying to head Dad off toward the kitchen. _I know. Block the front door! _So, he positioned himself squarely in front of it.

"See, he wants you to stay, too," Mom said with a smile. Dad smiled back.

_Crisis averted_, thought Paul Anka. Mom and Dad talked as he made her some of that dirty, smelly water she loved so much. Unfortunately, by the time it was ready and they were sitting at the table, Paul Anka sensed the atmosphere had changed. _Now what? What was that, Dad? Why can't you stay longer? Where can't you go? _

Mom and Dad were holding hands, but she was starting to cry. _Uh oh! Mom, this isn't the way to get him to stay with us. Make a better pitch! I know you two. You can talk him into anything. You talked him into me!_

When they got up, Paul Anka placed himself near the back door, just in case. The situation was getting worse. Now Dad looked like he was going to start crying. _No, no, no! _ _This is terrible!_

Without realizing what he was doing, Paul Anka began to howl. Through all the noise he was making, he noticed the sobs and sniffles he had been hearing lessened, and then stopped. They were replaced by chuckles, shortly followed by laughs. Paul Anka thought, _Hey, what's so funny!_

But Mom and Dad were smiling at each again, all the way to their eyes.

"Please, Luke. Please stay. Paul Anka loves you. You can't break his heart." _That's the way to sell it, Mom. _Softly and more slowly, she added, "And I love you, Luke." _Better still, Mom!_

Paul Anka never knew whether it was the timbre of his howling or Mom's admission that did the trick. One must have been the perfect pitch because, after a big sigh, Dad grinned, nodded, and said, "Love you back."

Mom and Dad hugged, whispered, and kissed for a long time. Paul Anka heard Mom use phrases like "your home" and "never stopped" while Dad as going to try to let go of something. Paul Anka didn't know what Dad was letting go of and he didn't care. He just wanted Dad to stay with them.

Paul Anka watched all of this anxiously and was hoping all this exercise would make Mom hungry, but was disappointed when they went into the living room and up the steps. All that exercise didn't make her hungry, but it must have made Mom warm because she started shedding her clothes. Dad helped her with this. _Dad is considerate and loves her_, Paul Anka mused. Mom returned the favor. Paul Anka guessed this was because she knew Dad was tired from working so hard.

Soon, everyone was in bed. Though it was noisy and his bed kept moving, Paul Anka drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up in the morning, Paul Anka found himself on the bed alone. _What happened? _He couldn't quite remember at first, but he then recalled a great deal of clamor and a loud thumping sound, followed by laughing, in the middle of the night. Startled, he had jumped up on the bed, only to find it empty. _Good. I'll just stay here 'til they come back to bed, _he had decided.

Now, he looked around groggily. Apparently, they had never come back. He started to worry. _Where are Mom and Dad? _Then he saw them. Well, he saw their feet. On the floor, by the side of the bed, tangled together.

_Hmmm, _he pondered_, wonder if I could score scrambled eggs, bacon, __**and**__ hamburger today? _


	3. Rocking

Chapter 3: Rocking!

Paul Anka had been happy for a long time because Mom and Dad had been happy for a long time. Of course, there were unsettled periods. There were stretches when Mom cried…a lot. At first, Paul Anka thought it was because she missed mini-Mom. That made sense to his canine mind because he did, too. Then he thought it was because she had started to gain so much weight. This seemed to elate and depress her at the same time. _Women!_, Paul Anka huffed and shook his head. Dad seemed not to mind and, in fact, was very happy and more patient with Mom than ever.

"You're still beautiful, Lorelai," Dad often told her. Paul Anka nodded in agreement with this sentiment though he realized they probably just thought he was getting sleepy.

Dad also seemed to say "Thank you for doing this" frequently. Paul Anka wasn't sure what "this" was. It couldn't possibly be for eating the food he made her. Now, Paul Anka loved food, but these combinations were thoroughly disgusting.

_Pickles_ _again_, he complained. _I hate pickles. Just scrape them off and gimme some of that ice cream. _

She had also started to put red stuff on everything. Paul Anka tried it. Once. _HOT!, _his brain screamed. This was soon followed by what Paul Anka referred to as his "digestive disorders" and he vowed, _Never again_.

Still, it wasn't all bad in the food department. Dad seemed to like the fact that Paul Anka was trying to help Mom. He had him special treats like cheeseburgers and bacon and sausage omelets. He even made him delicious doggie biscuits a few times. Paul Anka loved these delicacies, but, truthfully, he did things for Mom because he was worried. And worrying was something he did very well, almost as well as eating and sleeping.

_She's having trouble putting on her shoes_, he noted one day, so took to bringing them to her and putting them on the bed or couch. He fetched anything she dropped though, as he himself regularly observed, _I am a mutt with no obvious retriever in me_.

He watched her whenever she got up and began to walk. _You're great service dog material_, he chuckled. Sill, he did what he could. He sat with her for hours on the couch or bed, Mom just stroking his head.

"You're great for my blood pressure," she had told him. _Then it's a Win-Win situation_, he replied.

Soon, other strange things began to happen around the house. New furniture arrived, but it was so small Paul Anka wondered why Mom and Dad had bought it. He thought, _they'll never fit in those beds_ _and_ _the dressers_ _won't hold many of Dad's t-shirts or white socks. What were they thinking? What's with those things over the beds? They're kinda creepy…hanging animals and music??? Weird combination, Mom and Dad. _

Stranger still,they started making him smell material with a funny odor. _What the_ _hell is this?_, Paul Anka asked himself. _Has Mom's brain been fried by that red sauce? Have pickle fumes affected Dad's reasoning ability? _Unfortunately, he had no answers for all this puzzling behavior.

One day, just when Paul Anka was beginning to believe Mom would soon explode (_Told you pickles were bad for you_, he pontificated), he heard a very loud shout of "LUKE. NOW." Before he knew what was happening, they were out the door. _Hey, what about me? Where are you going? When are you coming back? Mom???? Dad???? _Paul Anka was getting tired of all these questions and questionable behaviors.

Days passed. Dad was in and out of the house. Mini-Mom was back. All kinds and kind people came and went. Still, no Mom. _Where is she?_, Paul Anka was concerned again. _She wouldn't go on a trip without Dad, would she? Would somebody please tell me what's going on!_

Concern was Paul Anka's middle name until he heard her. Mom was home. Dad was with her as was mini-Mom, Maxi-Mom, and the Big,Tall Man. Mom was carrying a blanket. So was Dad. They were moving and making faint noises. _So that's what this is about? Human puppies, "babies" they call them_, he sighed in relief.

"You're not going to let that dog near the babies, are you?," said Maxi-mom in a horrified voice. Paul Anka resented the tone of her voice and the implication that he was somehow toxic material. However, he silently admitted he wasn't quite sure himself about proximity to them.

"Sure, I am", replied Mom with conviction.

Suddenly, Paul Anka was also sure. _I'm not a retriever or a service dog, but somewhere in my twisted family tree, there's herder! I finally have something to do! _He sniffed the babies and proudly exclaimed, _They're mine, too._ _Must protect them!_

Paul Anka's neuroses changed. Stairs no longer bothered him. _Peas, broccoli, popcorn, lint, toys, words with the letter "Q"… who cares about them!_, he asserted. He even took walks with the family, the ultimate sacrifice. He was a dog with a purpose, seeing no harm came to his small flock.

He realized Mom and Dad took excellent care of the babies. _They take good care of me_, he reflected. Yet, there was one problem, one thing he worried about daily. It was those infernal beds. They rocked by themselves. _Can't be safe_, Paul Anka pronounced. _What happens if those mindless beds pitch too far to one side or the other? _ He spent many a sleepless night pondering terrible possibilities and watching those beds with suspicious eyes.

Luckily for Paul Anka, Dad was a bit of a worrier, too.

"Lorelai?," he said one night, "Do we really need those beds? We rock the babies to sleep. I enjoy doing it. And, frankly, they don't look that stable to me. Would you mind if I fixed the cribs so they can't move?"

Paul Anka anxiously awaited the response. _Please, please, say yes. It would take a load off my mind. Mom, I am sooooo tired!_

"You worry too much, Mister Murphy's Law." _Oh, hell. "_But I love that you love the twins and I love you, so, okay, fix the beds."

Dad left and returned with Bert (_Dad is right, Mom is crazy sometimes_, Paul Anka mused). In no time at all, the beds were rockless and the babies were asleep. Mom kissed Dad and added quietly, with an awkward wink, "Hun, you are the best fixer I know."

Dad chuckled, but Paul Anka just whispered,_ Oh, thank heavens. The perfect pitch in this case is none at all! _ _I…can….get…..some……sleeeeep. _And he contentedly nodded off.


	4. Throw It!

Chapter 4: Throw It!

Paul Anka awoke with a start. _Now what_, he yawned. In the past year or so, he had gotten quite used to his slumber being interrupted at any and all hours. His flock, as he liked to think of them, had grown.

Watching out for Buddy and Princess, that's what Dad and Mom called the little ram and ewe, took all of Paul Anka's questionable herder genes and then some. He sometimes wondered, _There are two of them and only one of me. Why don't Mom and Dad get me some help?!_

Once they hit the floor, it was a real struggle for Paul Anka to decide where to go, what position to take, how to prevent them from moving to a dangerous area, or move them once they were in danger. And, of course, this was all very tricky because they weren't exactly proficient walkers. Paul Anka was proud of the fact that he never made either of them fall. _Pretty good for a mutt_, he silently boasted and put aside the idea that help was necessary. 

As for the current sleep disturbance, it was hardly a real disturbance. It was his favorite part of the day. Mealtime. In this case…breakfast!

Everyone was busy getting ready for a new day. Soon, Buddy and Princess were in their special chairs, waiting as patiently as children their age can.

Mom bounced in, kissed Buddy and Princess, then wrapped her arms around Dad. As she kissed the back of his neck, he protested, "Lorelai, if you keep that up, I'm gonna burn your eggs."

As she frequently did, Mom winked awkwardly at him. "Sorry, hun, no time for that now. Gotta eat and get to the inn. Later...," she whispered in his ear. Dad replied, "Geez, Lorelai, the kids are sitting right there," but Paul Anka chuckled.

Occasionally, Maxi-Mom and Big Tall Man visited and watched Buddy and Princess. Needless to say, Paul Anka made himself scarce during those times. Big Tall Man was okay, but Maxi-Mom scared Paul Anka. Paul Anka believed she probably had that effect on many people as well.

Fortunately, Mom and Dad had worked out a schedule that allowed one of them to be home most of the time. It wasn't that Paul Anka didn't love Mom, but he liked it better when Dad stayed home. _Meals at home mean meals for me_, he rationalized as he finished his egg and cheddar cheese omelet. 

Regardless of who stayed home, there was a schedule to be kept. After breakfast, it was game time, definitely not Paul Anka's favorite part of the day. _Here we go_, he grumbled. He longed for a return to the simplicity of earlier games. _Can't they just go back to peek-a-boo? I liked that game. It required absolutely no effort on my part._

However, he knew such dreams were in vain. As Dad frequently remarked, things change. The toys all made sounds now, just like Buddy and Princess.

The commotion was not all bad. One of those contraptions, the one that made animal noises, had taught them his name. Well, okay, they didn't exactly say "Paul Anka," but they did say "doggie" or "woof-woof." _Come to think of it, they say that quite a lot. Maybe it was all bad_, Paul Anka groused as he heard himself summoned yet again.

Paul Anka was hoping this time he would not be subjected the one of the toys that made a terrible racket. The train's whistle hurt Paul Anka's sensitive ears. Like Mom, he hated bells. He only wished she hated horns, too. The drums made him want to hit something. And the workbench gave him a hammering headache. _At least I haven't lost my sense of humor_, he giggled, trying, but failing, to remain positive.

_If I were a puppy_, he griped, _I might just get away with chewing the one that made pictures pop up by pushing buttons._ As he worked himself back into a rant-mode Dad would be proud of, he stated, _That one really pushes MY buttons!_

Paul Anka stomped into the nursery and was horrified. _Oh, no! Balls! I sure hope no one here expects to actually FETCH those things! Herder, people, not retriever!_

Dad seemed particularly proud of the fact that Buddy was now gleefully throwing everything he could wrap his little fingers around. Princess was just as enamored of flinging objects through the air. Mom, on the other hand, was less than thrilled when some of her priceless junk met a sticky end. _Hence the introduction of balls_, Paul Anka guessed.

Paul Anka was relieved to see Dad sitting on floor with his baseball glove. _Good, Dad'll fetch the balls._ He was rolling the balls to Buddy and Princess and encouraging them to throw them back. He kept punching his fist into the glove.

"Put 'er here, Buddy.

Steeee-rike! That's my girl."

Dad was smiling, the flock was happily squealing. Everyone was happy, even Paul Anka. He hadn't moved a muscle in fifteen minutes. _Must be a record_, he thought.

He was also eagerly anticipating the next two blocks in the schedule. _First, a nap. Then, luuuuunch!_

The positive side of his flock's development was, in Paul Anka's eyes, naturally their progression to solid food. He had long since shed his neurosis concerning peas, but that didn't mean he wanted to eat them, especially puréed. _Grrrross!,_ he growled at the visual image of green mush. _And pulverized meat??? Lord, what a waste!_

Fortunately, now Buddy and Princess were eating noodle soup, macaroni and cheese, and, today, it looked like Paul Anka's favorite, spaghetti. _Carbohydrate heaven_, he sighed blissfully.

Dad was also adding something new to the menu. He had made small meatballs. _Hmmmmm. Meat...balls._ Paul Anka's mind began to turn over a possibility. He wondered whether it was possible to combine their obsession with throwing things with his obsession for food. To try out his hypothesis, he assumed a position near their chairs.

_Let's see. What can I do to obtain the desired results?_ He decided to concentrate on Princess who was always the easier mark. So, he wagged his tail, smiled his best doggie smile, and waited.

It didn't take long. A meatball was thrown his way. Paul Anka finally showed his athleticism by catching it in midair.

_Steeee-rike, Princess! Now, that's what I call the perfect pitch!_

The Middle


End file.
